


<399

by gadridel



Category: Original Work
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 08:39:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 4,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19390504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gadridel/pseuds/gadridel
Summary: In life, what we think we know and what we truly know can often times be two entirely different things. As we grow, we learn, new information overwriting the old. Our mind is an endless tapestry that never really finishes, the work simply interrupted as we die and return back to the Earth.What you have known from birth, though, and what you will always know, is that you are a HEART.





	1. ARC 01 HOOK

**Author's Note:**

> These works are all original works I've written for my tabletop RPG, <399, using the FATE system. I sort of use ao3 as a portfolio for my writing, so that's why I'm putting these on here. 
> 
> They're essentially a bunch of oneshots. 
> 
> If you're reading these works for any reason, I sincerely hope you enjoy them.

In life, what we  _ think _ we know and what we  _ truly _ know can oftentimes be two entirely different things. As we grow, we learn, new information overwriting the old. Our mind is an endless tapestry that never really finishes, the work simply interrupted as we die and return back to the Earth. 

What you have known from birth, though, and what you will  _ always _ know, is that you are a  _ HEART _ . 

For some, being a Heart is a blessing. Not only were you gifted with uniqueness, and clearly destined to live an interesting life, the body you leave behind will be ethereal and  _ breathtaking _ . Your parents raised you with love and adoration, filling your head with stories of the fellow brave and bright Hearts they'd come to know in their lives. You were inspired, and your head danced with dreams. 

For others, being a Heart is a curse. You were born with a parasite inside your body, and while it grants you something now, it will take so much from you. It will take  _ everything _ from you. Your life was forfeit from the moment of conception, and your parents made sure you never forgot it. 

Regardless of your past, you're here now, and you have a common goal in mind.

ㅤㅤ

You've all seen it. The news reports, fliers, the articles, blurry photographs and out-of-context quotes. Eyewitness reports on channel 7, commentary, opinions, theories- but above all,  _ human intrigue _ in its purest form. An up-and-coming artist that  _ destroyed _ the art world as people knew it. Like a rose pushing through a crack in the sidewalk,  _ THE DRAGON _ was suddenly the centerpiece of so many lives. Their name, their appearance, their history, all a blur of rumors and questions. Some had the audacity to call them the modern day Leonardo Da Vinci, a new-age revolutionary. After seeing their work, you'd think that calling them the devil would be an insult to Satan. 

The main focus, the so-called magnum opus, was the most disgustingly beautiful thing you'd ever seen. It was an over glorified, thoroughly disrespected  _ corpse _ of a Heart. A woman, with rich black hair and a pose of pure determination and power, trapped within a crystal the color of dried blood and crushed cherries. The gemstone around her body twisted and curled about itself like flames, and it twinkled like such in all of the videos you'd seen of it posted on every website you dared to open. By the looks of her open palm, the fear in her face, the tears forever embedded on her cheeks, this woman died  _ fighting _ .

ㅤㅤ

You think of The Dragon, proclaimed as an art god, someone who created. But whoever they were- they destroyed. You think back to the woman, and something stirs inside of you. The dragon  _ destroyed _ her. Her corpse, now lacking any sort of proper rest, earning The Dragon countless money and fame. The exhibit is a world-famous event, and people are flying in from across the globe to witness these once-in-a-lifetime pieces. Just trying to imagine the costs makes you sick. 

Maybe you seek to find validity to the rumors, to test your theory. Or, you're planning to kill The Dragon where they stand. Maybe you're just curious, or god forbid,  _ interested _ in joining their collection one day. 

No matter what, you're here now.  _ THE DRAGON'S LAIR AWAITS.  _


	2. SESSION 00 HOOK (TEST SESSION)

It is the night before the opening of  **DRACO EXHIBEO** , The Dragon's premiere art event. With your tickets came a complimentary room to a local hotel. While not the fanciest thing around, the staff had clearly put a lot of effort into tidying it up, making it look nicer, presumably to impress the event's high-class guests. 

A positive of the hotel, however, is that it boasts one of the most popular restaurants in town. Through the entice of a place to stay or delicious food, many of the exhibit's attendees have found themselves here tonight- including the six of you. 

This is a good opportunity to chat with some of the attendees of tomorrow's event, in a neutral and less stressful environment. It's late enough that any social blunders will be forgotten or excused by tomorrow, and most seem to have enough alcohol in their systems to agree. This presents an easy chance to introduce yourself to some people- and perhaps make a few allies while you're at it. Maybe some folks can be pressed for info, if you squeeze them the right way. 

Despite the calm atmosphere, however, your thoughts are plagued with The Dragon. The stress is sure to give you some Particularly weird dreams tonight...... 


	3. ARTICLE 01 (THE WOMAN IN THE CRYSTAL)

The vision of the woman is forever engraved in your mind. The woman in the crystal. Young, determined, and  _ sobbing _ in her eternal prison born of her own body. Newspapers, tabloids, talk shows, internet forums- it didn't matter. Anywhere and everywhere humans converged to speak, people were hopelessly hung up on  **Her** . The title of the work held some air of finality, it begged the question- who is she? Rather, who  _ was _ she? What happened to her, what are we supposed to think? Should we feel anything at all looking at her, or she but another piece of jewelry to adorn our lives with? 

There's something to this woman. _Something. Something. Something Something Something Something Something Something Something_ **Something Something Something Something Something Something Something Something Something Something** **_Something Something Something Something_** an emotion, a feeling, anything, everything, she was, she was, she was, she was, 

  
  
  
  


a mother? a lover? a fighter? a dreamer? a pathetic machine that cries as he eats her? a friend? a foe? a disease that could grow, and grow, and grow, and grow, and grow, and grow, and grow

  
  
  


maybe she was never anything to you at all. 

or maybe- maybe- she was  _ everything _ . 

  
  


but who are  _ you? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This writing was super experimental. Sometimes its fun to destroy the idea of using actual sentences and grammar, and just put words down on the paper.


	4. BLOODSTONE INTRO

It was night time, Citrine, when you saw the figure standing out on your balcony. 

You were in your hotel room, relaxing, getting ready for bed. You expected a quiet night, a few hours of peace and quiet. Maybe the TV was softly playing in the background, perhaps the radio was on. It didn't really matter what you were doing, though, because the figure on the balcony knocked, and you answered. They were but a dark blur through the frosted glass, and as the door was opened, their figure was revealed with more clarity. 

They smiled, so wide it stretched their skin against their bones, teeth pointed and sharp. Their ears long, as sharp as their teeth, and a black forked tail swishing back and forth behind them. You looked deep in their eyes and saw the swirls of green and blue and black, the splatters of red. They glistened, and that instinctive tug in your chest told you that this person was exactly what you thought they were- a  _ HEART _ . 

"You must be Citrine," They spoke, their voice high pitched and moving through octaves faster than was normal for any person to talk. "I have heard  _ SO _ much about you." Before you even knew it their hands were on your face, sharp fingers digging into the soft flesh of your cheeks. Not enough to scar- just enough to make you  _ feel it _ . They forced your head to move up, down, sideways, inspecting every little inch and pore and freckle, every hair follicle, every cell.

ㅤ

Their face suddenly fell, amused grin melting away into disgust. They looked  _ revolted _ at you. "Oh,  _ HE'S _ going to fucking LOVE you." Suddenly you were being pushed back, his hands falling down to shove you  _ hard _ onto the bed. 

"I sure hope you're not as dumb as you look, or this is going to be  _ far _ too easy for me. I want to have fun with you." He stood now, illuminated only in the glow of the full moon behind him. He backed up, slowly, heading back towards the doorway of the room. "I wasn't really supposed to come visit you so early, but I just couldn't help it. I wanted to see the man I've been hearing about for  _ so long _ now."

He finally reached the doorway, and stepped back out onto the balcony. "I'll see you tomorrow, Citrine." He said, the grin returning to his face. And as you stared at him, on either side of his body erupted a pair of wings that looked like those of a bat, that shone with those same colors of his eyes. He turned and stepped onto the railing, and jumped off the building. 

You saw him rise back into the air a few moments later, wings flapping against the night sky, before he disappeared between the towering buildings of the city.


	5. DREAM SEQUENCE 01 (CORONATION)

A man, a woman. Side by side, backs to the viewer. The man's hair is long, braided, black and sleek. It stands out against the harsh lines of his face. The woman's hair is short, hastily cut, red as the flame burning away at the candles illuminating the room. Her face is weary and terrified. 

They are both wearing long capes of red and blue, that drag behind them for what seems like miles. A crowd of onlookers, dressed in their finest of outfits, watches. 

Coronations are something to be enjoyed, and celebrated, they call for parties and food and happiness. And yet, you can't remember the last time you saw a crowd of people look so mutually blank. If you look closely, some seem to hold the same levels of exhaustion and terror held on the woman's face. Knuckles clenched so tightly they turn pale, children kept so unnaturally still it was as though God himself were breathing down their necks. 

A figure says a few unintelligible words. They reach into an oak box and open the silver clasp, revealing two crowns of gold. One sparkles with the colors of the ocean, the other shines with the color of cooling blood. 

The crown of red is placed upon the head of the man. He beams, as though he has been baptized with a halo, sanctioned as an archangel, glowing in the light and love of heaven.

ㅤ

The crown of blue is placed upon the head of the woman. She smiles- it is a poorly done patchwork placed over an open mouth, one begging for the release of a scream. Her crown is a shackle, and she gazes down the chain to the other cuff, the man now turning to face the crowd. 

You see as she, too, turns, that underneath a ruffle of expensive cloth and fabric, hidden like a secret, a bump, a telltale sign of pregnancy. She fights the urge to place her hand on her stomach, and hopes and  _ prays _ that they can't feel the anxiety she has. Something tells her this might be one of the few times of peace they'll ever experience, in this state of unborn limbo.


	6. HOOK 01 (POST SESSION 01)

Today's the day. 

You've already made acquaintance with several people: GODFREY, a newbie investigative journalist here to do something big. BLUE GOLDSTONE / BENJAMIN, a heart now finally embracing the power within himself and learning how to cope with the new life ahead of him. TEMPERANCE, the gruff leader of VITALITY, with a headstrong personality and fire red hair to match. CHASTITY, the sweet and quiet sibling of TEMPERANCE. KINDNESS, the childish and smallest of the PRASIOLITE siblings. GARNET, the beautiful and responsible man who can, apparently, play a few songs for you. You heard the beginnings of the tales of an unnamed QUEEN and KING. Finally, you met the ever so persistent, eccentric, and horny threatening BLOODSTONE. 

There's going to be a  _ lot _ of people at this exhibit, and who knows what kind of people you'll meet. Will they be hearts? Humans? Neither? Maybe you'll meet the dragon. Who could it be........  _ where _ could they be.....? Surely they'd be present opening day of their own exhibit.

Find out what you can. Make acquaintances, make friends- make enemies. 

The exhibit is open for exactly one week. Good luck,  _ HEARTS _ . 

  
  
  


_ THE DRAGON _ is watching, waiting for your first move.


	7. DREAM SEQUENCE 02

We are taken into a room. It is old, walls and floors made of eroded stone. The windows let in no light- only the soft glow of torches on the walls illuminate the room. Thunder rolls and cracks in the distance, and rain floods the earth. 

There's a woman, lying on a bed. You recognize her as the terrified woman- the queen of blue. Her face is drenched in sweat, the fire of her hair turned dull as it sticks to her cheeks. She's too quiet, too pale, too cold. She's dead. 

There's a woman, far younger, tending to something in the corner of the room. Her apron is stained with blood. Her eyes, now sullied and darkened, only look downwards towards the floor. 

She tucks a newborn baby into a wooden crib, struggling. Clearly, the crib was only made for one. Yet here lies a triad of children, sleeping peacefully, clearly an unexpected surprise. She'd call it a miracle, if it weren't for the undeniable fact that this room still certainly contained a corpse. 

The children had taken after their father, each born with tufts of carbon-black hair. Three baby girls, similar but not identical. Their eyes were all closed as they quietly slept. The first two of the bunch were large, healthy, and as chubby as any newborn should be. The third, however, was rather small and lean. The nurse nearly mistook her for dead when she was first born. 

The only other person in this room was the now-widowed King of Red. He was still, emotionless, silent, standing in the corner of the room. He'd retained his full regalia- crown, armor, cape, sword at hip. He refused to take them off whenever he wasn't in his own bedroom. His appearance was immaculate, not a single strand of hair out of place. It was  _ unnerving. _

ㅤ

"........ What are you going to name them?" The nurse muttered, breaking an ages-long silence. It felt like she was breaking a sacred oath, with how it violently shook her heart. 

Moments passed before the king began to step forward with dull thuds, armor lightly clacking against itself. His hands remained positioned and clasped behind his back. 

Downwards he gazed at his newborn children. Most fathers would smile, at the very least, at their firstborn. Some clung to them, held them tenderly, cried out of joy and relief. They held their tiny hands with their own fingers and felt an indescribable rush of emotion at the realization of  _ "that's my child." _

The King's gaze was not like that at all. In fact, it felt more akin to a farmer looking down at a herd of cattle, wondering which one would best suit his needs. 

He raised a single hand, and pointed to the first child. "Constance." The finger moved over to the second child. "Orabella." Slowly, the hand moved to point to the third. "And that one-" His hand returned behind his back. "Is not my child." 

In a confused daze the nurse's eyes finally shot up, daring to meet with the King's. "My lord, what-" 

He interrupted her. "I only had two children today- Constance and Orabella. The third does not exist, and no one will ever know about it. I won't let it be known that I ever created something so  _ weak _ ." He stepped closer to her, dangerously in her space.  _ "Do you understand?" _

She nodded hastily, eyes darting back down once more, body consumed with fear. 

Wordlessly he took a step back, turned around, and exited the room, leaving the Nurse to her duty.

ㅤ

She waited a few minutes for the footsteps to have long since faded, and leaned down into the crib, picking up the smallest of the children in her arms. She cradled her tiny body, pressed a tender kiss to its forehead. The baby quietly yawned, and for the first time in a long time, the Nurse smiled. "I'll keep you safe. I couldn't do something so cruel to something so wonderful." 

The nurse grew quiet for a moment, lost in thought. "I think.... I'll call you Genevieve. You can come with me, okay? You'll be my little angel. You'll be my little heart."


	8. BLOODSTONE/CITRINE (KISSES)

Bloodstone had kissed Citrine for all sorts of reasons. 

Their first kiss was an explosion of tension. Bloodstone had been practically _pining_ after citrine for the past few days, ever since he'd met him in the hotel room. He'd wanted to drag him into a secluded corner since then, and finally, he found his opportunity. He left with the promise of more, later. Citrine looked shocked and breathless and _unbearably attractive_ , Bloodstone found it a test of strength to stop so soon. 

The next few kisses he gave him were barely kisses, and more akin to Bloodstone's mouth lightly grazing Citrine's skin. He'd lean in close to Citrine's ear just to see him squirm, leaned down to ghost his lips against Citrine's neck. Bloodstone had even grasped the other's hand, lightly kissing his knuckles in quite the overdramatic display. 

The next real kiss, however, was .... _different_. 

Bloodstone had burst into Citrine's room once more, this time no longer knocking. Citrine had barely gotten a word out before Bloodstone's hands desperately grasped at his shirt and smahed their mouths together. Bloodstone was... desperate, fearful. He'd barely managed to mutter out a few words in regards to worries towards the future, and in his moments of terror he'd realized he desperately needed to Citrine's side. 

After that, the kisses changed. They felt less and less imbued with infatuation. The definition of their relationship became blurred and illegible. Citrine sat in Bloodstone's lap, powerful arms wrapped around his shoulders, and no longer felt afraid. Instead, Citrine felt ... warm. He felt safe. He felt loved. Each kiss became a promise for another, a wordless exchange of emotions that Bloodstone was too dense and too afraid to realize at the time.


	9. BLOODSTONE/CITRINE (COLD)

Bloodstone cracked open the porch door of the hotel room. A breeze kept the room slightly chilly, helping his still-warm skin cool down. He looked down at the sleeping being beside him, watching as the air gently roused a few flyaway curls of hair. 

Bloodstone told Citrine it would be a one time thing. He told Citrine he didn't get attached, so Citrine shouldn't, either. Eventually fate and time would latch onto them, driving them far apart and out of each other's minds. They'd find someone else. 

But they found themselves still arranging meet-ups, texting and calling often- _too_ often. They never forgot the other. That 'someone else' never came. Despite everything, Bloodstone and Citrine actively sought each other out. It was fucking terrifying. 

"What the hell am I gonna do with you, Citrine..." Bloodstone muttered, running a hand back through the black tangles of his hair. He couldn't fathom why, after everything, Citrine stuck around. He seemed like the type to crave _more_ than just something physical. It's what he deserved, too- someone who'd take him out on proper dates, someone who did it right. 

It made Bloodstone nervous, being this close to once again being .... _something_ with someone else. He started to move out from under the sheets to stand up, put on some clothes, to _leave_ -

"Hmngn.... Helio?" Citrine muttered, squinting up at him. Bloodstone froze, one leg sticking out from underneath the covers. "Come back... I'm cold." Citrine gave him a lopsided, sleepy smile, hand tugging on his wrist. 

Bloodstone, against all of his better judgement, slowly moved and slipped back under the covers. He let out a heavy sigh as his arms moved to wrap around Citrine, the other slowly scooting closer to press his face into his chest. 

He was so fucked.


	10. HER INTRO

What else is there to say, besides..... Its HER?

Candles softly burn as they hang on the walls. She sits atop a 10ft tall stage, waterfalls of vibrant cloth flowing down the sides and pooling down at the floor. The piece itself is already quite tall- so now, with the added height, its easily four times the height of a person. You have to crane your neck up to look at her but perhaps.. that's the way this was always intended to be. 

She's ... More than what she was in the photographs. Pictures couldn't possibly hope to vividly capture the entirety of her. In addition to the massive flame that encases her body, two jets of fire erupt from either side of her, slowly burning lower and lower to the ground till they become the smallest of crystallized embers. 

Her expression is just as pained as you remember. Now, seeing it up close, it makes you feel uneasy and anxious. 

A long red carpet covers a black marble floor, leading right up to the front of the stage. 

A small offering pile has amassed at the end of the carpet. Its a strange sight for an art show, but considering how this is, indeed, a corpse, it makes sense. There's mostly flowers and candles, as well as a few notes. One looks handwritten.


	11. FUSION INTRO

You've barely stepped foot inside the room, and you already feel like your mind's curdled and expired. 

Every primal instinct in your body, the ones that build your bones and your skin and the meat of your heart, they tell you to GET OUT. 

But you go forward anyways. 

This room is empty. It is dimly lit, barely decorated. It has no flair, no extravagance. Was this done out of laziness, or does it carry a purpose, a reason? You don't know. You hear the dull buzzing of insects. 

At the very end of it all is a heart. 

This heart is an eruption of limbs, two spines curving away from a single hip bone, hands pushing away the other figure, fingers digging into the creature's own flesh as if to try and tear it free. Two heads and two sets of mouths are stretched in a permanent scream that they will never be able to release. The body is encased in pink, with veiny white swirls of color. Jagged black spikes stick out of their body in every which way, pinning their hands to their hips, skewering them through the center of their abdomens, jutting through their legs and their feet and their back. Thousands of these smaller black pinpricks stick out in every which way and direction. 

Two hearts, one body. Forced to give up whatever they were before and to coexist as a single person, erasing their identities, their sense of self. Forced to live a life of permanent, agonizing pain. 

The black spikes are surely self-imposed efforts to cease their suffering. 

This is Arfvedsonite and Pink Lace Agate. 

  
  


The buzzing has grown uncomfortably loud in your ears. You swear you felt something land on your cheek, but every time you raise a hand, nothing is there.

A woman stands in this room, quietly studying the monstrosity.


	12. MORGANITE INTRO

This room seems like an extension of the garden, as though it were left undisturbed for years, vegetation and plant life allowed to flourish and grow. Sunshine spills inwards from the massive window on the opposite wall from where you walked in. Beams of light sparkle against the gentle fountain of water forming a small, secluded pool in the corner of the room. Koi fish swim happily, content with their life. 

A massive tree erupts from the middle of the room, shading the form of a permanently stilled woman. She's kneeling down, arms making the motion as if cradling something very closely- but whatever was once in her arms is long gone. Her mouth is formed in a soft smile, but her eyebrows are pulled up tightly in pain. 

Her body is covered by a layer of a light pink gem. The light reflects the soft color onto the grass around her. 

Snapdragons curl around her legs and bloom around her, as if nature were showing its gratitude towards her. 

This is MORGANITE.


	13. BLOODSTONE/CITRINE (LOST IN LOVE)

Bloodstone wasn't one for getting lost in his thoughts.  _ Especially _ not in social situations- he enjoyed wielding charisma like a sword, striking through conversations with a practiced ease. Being an extrovert, such situations only served to charge him up. 

His eyes were focused on Citrine's face, watching his mouth move, but not processing any of the words tumbling out. They were leaning against one of the walls of the ballroom. Golden light shone down from chandeliers above. It fell as a golden honey shine against Citrine's curls, sharpening his jawline and cheekbones. Bloodstone was focused on the movements of Citrine's lips as he spoke, and wondered what it would be like to kiss him. 

_ Christ Almighty, did he want to kiss him. _

"-ron?" Citrine paused expectantly. (Oh, shit, he'd asked him something.) "Bloodstone, did you hear me?" 

That got his attention. His gaze shot up to meet with Citrine's eyes and oh, weren't those a whole other world he was  _ dying _ to get lost in. 

"Of course I was listening! Just... go ahead and tell me again. I love hearing you speak." Bloodstone smiled, giving him a wink. 

Citrine seemed a strange mix of slightly annoyed but slightly flattered, and continued on. Bloodstone actually listened, this time. He could think about his impending too-strong-too-fast crush later.


End file.
